Dress Me Up In Dirt
by Clear Chronic Depression
Summary: Lily has everything, or so it would seem. The only things she wants are what she can't have, and what will never happen. PG-13 for language and dirty humor.
1. Default Chapter

**_Dress Me Up In Dirt:_**

Drunk Dad: Crash! I stopped in my tracks, whimpering. I knew what would come next.

"Lillian Victoria Micelle!" I cringed, even though intentions of the call were completely familiar.

I did the only thing sensible: ran. I stretched my legs as far as they would go, jumping sticks and boulders. I burst through the door and into the forest nearby.

Scrambling up my favorite tree, I panted, tucking my feet under myself. I heard crunching, and my fathers head popped into view below me.

"Come back here girl! Damn you!" My father, Fredrick Micelle, started walking back towards our mansion. My father is a drunk.

He's also a millionaire, and puts a lot of stress on himself. He drinks to let it all out, but he gets too drunk, and beats me black-and-blue.

I'm ten, but before my mother, Eloise, died, she taught me some make-up tricks.

I cover the bruises and nurse my cuts. No one knows, even if I did tell someone, father would beat me harder. I still love him, even if he beats me. Silly, I guess.

I climbed slowly down the tree, wincing from my old bruises. My waist-length crimson red hair swung into my face, hitting me and startling me off balance. I fell.

I'm not clumsy…just accident-prone. I heard laughing, and I looked up. A boy around eleven stood before me, laughing hysterically.

He was cute, with even redder hair than me, and bright blue eyes. I had always believed in romance…

"You fell! Ha! That was funny!" He went back to laughing. Alright, I don't believe in romance with him.

Even though I was to busy picking myself up off the ground, I knew my emerald green eyes were ablaze with fury.

"Ha, you've had your laugh. Now stop!" I commanded. He ceased chuckling.

"My name is James Hitler and I'm very sorry, my lady! Please except my apology!" He kissed my hand.

I withdrew my hand. "Excuse me, dear sir, but I don't, and won't!" I marched away, my red dress swinging behind me.

"Please? May I know your name?" James asked, bowing. I snorted with laughter.

"No, you can't." I marched faster, but suddenly I felt an icy cold hand on my shoulder, and when I looked behind me, I saw a pair of yellow cat-like eyes. And then I fainted.

**A/N: Thanks to Ashlee Simpson for making the wonderful song that this story is named after! **

**It's a cliff-hanger! Yay! R/R or I shall suck your blood!**


	2. Lord Malvernis

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**Now on to the story!**

**_Dress Me Up In Dirt:_**

Lord Malvernis: I woke in a stone chamber, my wrists, waist, ankles, and upper head chained to the walls. I couldn't look down, but I was sure I had a nasty gash on my leg. I could feel the blood trickling down my foot.

I inched my head to the right, and gasped at what I saw: James Hitler was chained to the wall opposite me. He stirred, and woke. "What the hell!" He whispered, seeing me and himself chained up.

A cold voice chuckled, and those nasty yellow eyes came into focus, as did a slender body, followed by blonde curls.

Then I knew: That…**thing** wasn't male, it was **female**. I gulped. I would do anything to get out of here. Anything, I tell you.

"I'm evil, aren't I?" She asked, standing in front of me. She smiled crudely, and yanked on my hair. She spoke.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here! My own daughter, Lillian! You've grown most…peculiarly." She smiled at my look of horror and dawning comprehension.

"Yes, you are right. I never died, dear Lillian, I ran away. Away to be a most faithful servant to my master, Lord Malvernis!"

It all made since. Why none of my mother's possessions were never found. Why my father had that note, why he hit me all the time.

Flash-Back

I walked down the stairs to my fathers study, my chubby little fingers clumsily turning the handle.

I entered, and tried to show my father my drawing of a boy with redder hair than my own, and bright blue eyes. I was a remarkable artist for such an age of four.

But my father held a note, and he was crying. He spoke.

"Honey, your mother's…dead, supposedly. Her possessions weren't found. Do you know where she is?" He asked.

There was something sickly sweet about that tone of voice he was using. Like he wanted something.

"No, daddy. Look at my picture!" I showed him the picture.

He swiped the picture away, and growled. He grabbed me, and started to hit me on my head. _Boom. Boom. Boom._ Boom. With each swing I was swept further away into unconsciousness.

End of Flash-Back

I finally knew the answers I had been waiting so long to hear. Why my father hit me, why he had held that note, why I had drawn that boy. That boy was James, I was sure.

And with all the startling facts that had overwhelmed me, I slipped into unconsciousness.


End file.
